


Valetta, Malta, 2011

by Lyon_S



Category: Pete Buttigieg - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-16 06:53:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29078148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyon_S/pseuds/Lyon_S
Summary: Pete and his parents visit Malta after Pete wins his first mayoral election but before his term begins.  He attracts the attention of Tonio, a local tour guide.  Note: My stories take place in the world of It Could Have Happened but there is no substantiation for any of the described events having actually happened.
Relationships: Pete Buttigieg & Fictional Character
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	Valetta, Malta, 2011

Valleta, Malta, 2011

Did the lettering on the leg of those shorts say “Navy”? It did.

Tonio squinted his eyes as he watched the handsome young man run past. Who is this? Every feature of the runner’s face, his dark hair, his sinuous body, all said he was as much Maltese as Tonio himself, but that t-shirt and those shorts simply screamed tourist. American tourist.  
There was something different about how he moved, too. Not a lazy, slack lope. Not a bored, begrudging trudge. It was focused, purposeful, each step measured and controlled and powerful, like the pumping of the side rods that connect a locomotive’s drive wheels.

He didn’t recognize the runner, which was itself disturbing. The young entrepreneur knew everyone in Valetta, and he thought he knew who came and went from his father’s two hotels well enough to know who was visiting and who was not. He set down his glass and walked slowly to the railing of the tiled balcony. The early morning breeze played with the tails of his open shirt and sent little tendrils of wind like mischievous fingers through his hair, while the low-angled sun glinted on the lenses of his sunglasses. The light of the new day painted the sandstone walls and terraces of Valetta with broad swathes of soft, intimate sunlight.

The runner had reached the end of the docks with their rows of boats bobbing gently in their slips, sails folded like the wings of sleeping birds. He turned and ran in front of the charter house, evidently bound for the opposite side of the harbor on the road that looped the waterfront. Tonio pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and dialed. “Teodora? Yeah, look out at the Harbor Road. Who is this guy running?”

Straight across the harbor, a door opened on the third floor of a sandstone building and a woman stepped out onto a terrace, walked the railing and stopped, a phone held to her ear. She spotted the runner and watched him intently. Teodora’s voice had an oddly dreamy note in it. “Ah, that one. Franco Buttigieg’s brother Joseph came back to visit the family. That’s his son. They had a welcome party last night and I met him.” “What’s his name?” Tonio asked. She laughed a little. “Mayor something … Peter? Yes, Peter. His parents say he’s going to be the mayor of a city in the United States, just elected, and he’s not even thirty yet.” Tonio laughed, too, at that. “Americans! No accounting for their craziness.” Teodora went on, a note of petulance in her voice. “I tried all night to get his attention, but nothing. No interest at all.” Tonio perked up at that. Teodora was the queen of Valetta’s party scene, very beautiful, and most men found her maddeningly enticing. If she didn’t arouse any interest… “Poor Teodora! Are you losing your appeal, or… do you think maybe he prefers men?” “Why don’t you find out, you panting dog?” she teased back. “or is the line of boys outside your bedroom door too long?” Tonio resisted the urge to compare the line at his bedroom door with hers. He kept himself to an amiable thank-you and goodbye.

The runner was heading around the point of land separating Valetta’s harbor from the next. Tonio gazed at him until he turned the corner and disappeared. Mayor! Obviously, that was nonsense. Teodora will listen to any silly story and repeat it. Tonio picked up the tablet that listed the tours he had set up for the coming month, but it was only a minute before his eyes, and his mind, strayed back to the far bend in the Harbor Road. What would he be like? How would his body feel, firm or yielding? Cool or warm to the touch? How would his mouth taste?

For the next two hours Tonio tried to concentrate on the marketing work he needed to do; no good. His mind kept returning to the muscular legs that had carried the stranger past his house. Finally, he went inside and set the tablet on a side table, grabbed his keys and strode to the back door. He paused at the hallway mirror. The young man that Tonio saw reflected was darkly good-looking, with strong pecs and abs that attested to his dedication to his gym routine. Loosely curling hair the color of expresso beans stopped just shy of his collar, and his smooth, olive-toned skin was lightly bronzed by the Mediterranean sun. Deep brown eyes ringed with black lashes looked back at him. He gauged his reflection; his clothes, his shaven face, his hair... Tonio finger-combed a few errant curls into place, swung the door open and stepped through it.

It didn’t take many questions around town to locate the visitors. They were at the family house in San Tumas, about four miles away. Had Peter run all that way this morning, and back? Impressive.

He found them at the beach, arrayed in lounge chairs around Franco, the patriarch of the Buttigieg household. And yes, the handsome runner was there, sunglasses on his nose, which was buried in a book. Seeing him laid out in the lounge chair, now in jeans and a t-shirt, blew a hot wind over the newly-kindled flame of his need and turned it into a smoldering fire.

Franco hailed Tonio and waved him over, introducing him to the American visitors with a wordy explanation of how his brother and sister-in-law were highly respected professors at the greatest Catholic university in America. “And this is their son, Peter, he graduated from the University of Harvard and …” Franco’s voice pattered on, but Tonio stopped listening. Peter had lifted the sunglasses off and looked up with eyes that were startlingly winter-sea blue instead of the expected brown. Tonio almost imagined he heard the screech of a turntable needle being dragged across a record. He had planned to say something saucy and clever, but all that evaporated out of his head when those eyes met his. Peter swung his legs to the ground, stood up and extended his hand. “Howdy!” he said with a friendly smile. Tonio clasped his hand just as Franco’s voice intruded on his consciousness; “… Tonio is the son of my old friend Andres De Battista. Andres and I …”

No wonder Teodora had been so piqued that she had made no headway with him. Those eyes were set in a face framed by typically Maltese thick mahogany-brown hair, cut a few inches long, and a strong, square jaw. The rounded nose, long upper lip and dark shadow of a beard could have belonged to any man in any house in the country, but the intensity in his expression, the focus, the way it felt as though he could see into the furthest corners of Tonio’s being, that was unlike anyone he had ever encountered. Peter let go of his hand and Tonio fought down the urge to reach for it again.

Wait, thought Tonio, was he studying my face while I was studying his? He was! Peter’s eyes wandered up to Tonio’s hair, down to his open shirt … had his gaze lingered on Tonio’s lips for a fraction of a second? It had, and a thrill shot up Tonio’s belly.

Franco was winding down, extolling Tonio’s knowledge of Maltese history and his fledgling tour guide company. “I need to meet a private party for a tour in a half hour, but I’d be happy to take your guests around to see the sights, Franco, gratis of course.” Tonio said as casually as he could manage. Franco beamed, but the older guests exchanged glances that clearly said “Oh dear … no."

“Thank you, young man, but I was raised here.” said the man Franco had introduced as his brother Joseph. “We’ve been back a number of times, but Peter might be interested.” “Yeah, sure, I’ll walk back to your car with you while we talk.” Peter said lightly. He gestured up the path with his sunglasses and fell into step beside Tonio.

Tonio began to list off destinations, but the moment they were out of earshot Peter glanced back and then looked sidelong at him. “I met your friend Teodora last night, she told me about you.” “Oh? Well, I’m glad she did. And what did little Dora have to say?” Tonio asked, trying to sound casual though his heart began to hammer in his chest. “She said you were a fun guy, and you specialize in tours for gay couples and lesbians.” Peter said evenly, with a pleasant expression, but a guarded look in his eyes.

They reached the car just then and Tonio laid his hand on the door handle, waiting to see which way this would go. Peter glanced back towards his family again. “My parents don’t need to know about that.” Tonio nodded and said “I haven’t told my father everything. He knows who most of my customers are, but he doesn’t know much about …my, uh … my social life. Not like Teodora knows.”

Those laser-like eyes turned and captured Tonio again. Peter’s expression was still pleasant but there was an uncertain, considering look in his eyes, an inner conflict seemingly being fought. Peter dropped his gaze and studied the ground between them for a few seconds, then a tiny smile appeared as a decision was apparently reached. He looked up again. “I don’t have much of a social life, but I’d like to know more about yours …” Peter said softly. Tonio held his breath. “… so pick me up around six, okay?”

By seven that night they were in a lively bar in Valetta, one of Tonio’s favorites, seated in a banquette. Peter’s arm stretched out behind Tonio’s shoulders, and Tonio had edged closer until he lounged against Peter’s torso. Emptied plates were stacked on the table and several generous glasses of robust Maltese wine had come and gone for each of them. They had found they liked each other’s sense of humor, and Peter remarked that he hadn’t laughed so much in ages. He was chuckling now, and had drained his wineglass enough times that he’d forgotten to be discreet about staring at Tonio’s enticingly open shirt.

Tonio impulsively twisted around and kissed him, lightly brushing the full, warm lips with his own. He straightened again and one corner of Peter’s mouth tugged up into a pleased, crooked smile as he ran his eyes over Tonio’s face. He hesitated, and for a moment that look of conflict reappeared in his mesmerizing blue eyes. Then once again Peter glanced down, and when he looked back up, a choice seemed to have been made.

Cupping the hinge of Tonio’s jaw in his palm and fingers furrowing the hair behind Tonio’s ear, Peter leaned in and returned the kiss, but there was nothing light about it. It was firm and sensuous, seeking, insistent, intoxicating. Tonio savored the taste of wine as he ran his tongue from one corner of Peter’s mouth to the other along Peter’s upper lip and back along the lower one. A low sound, half moan, half whimper struggled up from Peter’s throat. A warm, eager tongue slipped into Tonio’s mouth and slid hungrily against his own. Tonio relished the rasp of his stubble against Peter’s five o’clock shadow. Too soon, it seemed, Peter leaned back and drew a long, ragged breath. They stared for a moment into each other’s eyes, each seeing what the other wanted, each letting his own need be seen. An unspoken _yes!_

“It’s been a long time for me, since I could do this.” Peter murmured. “It’s gonna be a long time until I can again, if I ever do.” There was suddenly a profound sadness in his voice, a desolate look on his face. “You cannot?” Tonio asked. Peter shook his head a little. “Not where I live.” he said softly. “There is no way to … be quiet, to not let people see?” Peter shook his head again. “Everything I want out of life, my commission in the Navy, … and now my new job, I just won an election for Mayor, so my whole future, right? … I could lose it all.” Peter said softly.

Mayor? It was true, then? Barely more than a boy, and already he’s been chosen to be mayor of some town? Peter went on; “Shit, I’d be looking over my shoulder constantly, and worried out of my mind all the time. I can’t live like that.” Tonio studied Peter’s face for a moment, then nudged him in the ribs. “Come on then. If you only have tonight, let’s not waste any of it.”

They stood facing each other in Tonio’s apartment, long shadows running up the walls as the setting sun streamed in through the windows and washed the room in amber light. A condom box perched on the nightstand, the top torn open and the contents, a handful of foiled squares, dumped out into a little pile next to a tube of lubricant.  
Peter ran his fingers up Tonio’s torso and smoothed them over one shoulder, sliding the shirt off. Then, slipping his fingertips of his other hand under the button band, he slowly slid them up and over the other shoulder, pushing the shirt free and letting it fall to the floor on top of Tonio’s pants and Peter’s slate-blue tee. Tonio’s breath came shallow, his skin humming with electric energy.

Peter’s fingers moved to Tonio’s nipples and lightly rubbed them, drawing an appreciative sigh as Tonio let his head fall back. Peter’s soft, warm lips slowly met Tonio’s neck and his fingers busied themselves with the button on his own waistband. Tonio ran his hands all the way down Peter’s back, fingers tracing the twin valleys of his spine, then cupping the cheeks of his ass in his palms and smiling when he felt Peter respond, pressing himself hard against Tonio. The button popped open, followed by the crisp sound of a zipper, and Tonio had room to slide his hand inside Peter’s underwear and down over his rock-hard cock. A startled gasp escaped Peter’s lips; he arched his back and his eyelids closed in rapture. Tonio fondled Peter’s balls and he smiled to see Peter’s brow furrow and his lips form a soundless “Oh!” “Good?” He asked, and Peter nodded a little as he whispered an intense “Yes!” Tonio was hard as well. He wanted this beautiful man to have him, wanted to feel this cock being thrust deep inside him, wanted to be jolted over and over and over as Peter fucked him.

Tonio clasped one of Peter’s wrists and stepped backwards to the bed, drawing Peter after him. He laid back, Peter eagerly bending over him, fitting his knees between Tonio’s legs and lowering his head to take one of Tonio’s nipples into his mouth. Propped on his elbows, Peter sucked it gently, circling his tongue over the sensitive tip and sparking wonderful sensations that sizzled down to Tonio’s cock and joined the roaring fire of his need. Tonio moaned and twisted in tormented delight, running his fingers through Peter’s dark, thick hair and drawing one leg up to rub against a muscular thigh.

Peter’s fingers explored Tonio’s chest, finding the other nipple and teasing it. His lips left Tonio’s nipple and moved upwards, kissing, tasting, finding every little sensitive spot and sending shudders through his body. “Peter!” Tonio whispered roughly. Peter hesitated, lifting his head and looking uncertainly at Tonio for a moment, then he brought his lips to Tonio’s mouth and kissed him, deeply, passionately, hopelessly in the grip of his desire, breaking off to gasp for breath. Tonio’s heartbeat pounded in his chest and in the livid red head of his cock. Peter’s hand slid under Tonio’s knee and lifted it, moving Tonio’s leg up onto Peter’s shoulder.

They paused to unroll a glistening wet condom onto his cock, exchanged a few whispered words about what Tonio needed by way of loosening, and then Peter lubed his fingers and lifted Tonio’s other leg up to join the first. Hurry, hurry, Tonio thought, or I’m going to cum right here and now. A wonderfully slick finger slipped carefully into Tonio’s hole, twisting in and down, withdrawing, slipping in again, the sweet thrill of being penetrated making Tonio arch his back until his shoulders lifted clear of the bed. Then there were two fingers pressing into him, fucking him with maddening slowness, and a minute later a third, taking him to a whole new fantastic level of arousal and spreading him further and further open. Tonio moaned low with each stroke, wordlessly begging Peter for more.

Finally, just as it seemed Tonio would lose his mind, Peter grasped his cock and spread a quick layer of lube over it. He brought the tip to Tonio’s hole, leaning in, bringing an exquisite pressure to bear. A wave of intense pleasure shot up Tonio’s spine. He flexed muscles deep in his pelvic floor that unclenched his hole and was rewarded by the delicious press of Peter’s cock beginning to slip into his ass. There was a twinge or two of pain – Peter was large – but Tonio was so aroused, the pain was more good than bad. Peter drew back and then pushed himself into Tonio again, much deeper this time. As Peter’s cock slid into Tonio’s ass, it sent a pulse of deep pleasure ripping through him. Another moan tore loose from Tonio’s throat. His fingers dug into Peter’s shoulders, but Peter seemed focused only on sinking his cock further into Tonio’s body.

Another stroke, and a fourth, and Peter was fully inside him, filling him, stretching him, unleashing thrill after quivering thrill. Sensations built one upon another as Peter fucked him, and Tonio began to lose track of the bed beneath them, the room around them ... he was beginning to float in netherworld of wild pleasure as Peter roughly pitched him back and forth on the bed. Peter was murmuring through clenched teeth into Tonio’s neck; “Tonio … oh God, Tonio … Oh! That feels so good …”

Tonio came first, cum erupting from his cock in white streams and painting both their chins and necks. Peter was oblivious, he had drifted into his own world of pure sensation and was relentlessly pounding his rod into Tonio. Tonio’s loud “Aaah!”, repeated over and over as his orgasm shook through him, went unheeded. Finally, the tingling, clenching waves slowed and gradually stopped. Tonio’s awareness gradually crept back to the bedroom and Peter’s body moving on top of him and in him with an engine-like rhythm. He reached down and grasped one of Peter’s butt cheeks in each hand, then gently pulled them open. He lifted his head to bring his lips near Peter’s ear and softly whispered “That’s it, Peter… come on, pump it into me… I want it, that’s it, fuck me, Peter, … fuck me!“ Peter groaned and began to move faster, then rapidly as his climax seized him. Finally, he crushed his hips into Tonio, and Tonio thrilled to feel the strength of it, and the deep spasms in Peter’s body. Oh! It was so good! He had been so hungry for this!

Peter’s body stayed taut until the last shivering push, until the last drop of cum left him, then slowly went slack. He levered himself up and let Tonio lower his legs. Both of them were breathing hard and covered with a shining patina of sweat. Tonio gave a quick “Oh!” as Peter withdrew and then lay panting while Peter braced himself on his elbows, his head lolling down on Tonio’s chest. They stayed like this for long minutes, their breath slowing, their heartbeats gradually finding their normal rhythm. Tonio felt blissful, so wonderful, and the desire stole gently into him to make Peter feel wonderful too. His mind strayed to what Peter had sadly said about his future, and he thought for a moment about what lay ahead for this beautiful young man. He reached up and his fingers combed through Peter’s hair.

“Peter?” Tonio breathed softly. “Hmm?” Peter murmured, his eyes closed. “When you are back in America, and they have made you a mayor …” Peter lifted his head at that, and looked deeply into Tonio’s eyes, listening intently. Tonio went on; “Do not be ashamed. Even though you must live …“ Tonio searched for the words, then went on; “… in a quiet way, and not let yourself be known, be proud to be a gay man, like me. There is no shame in what we are, no matter what anyone says. Always remember. Be proud.”  
There was a long pause, then Peter drew a slow breath. His eyes were alive with emotion as he whispered, “I will.”

Thank you for reading my story. Please feel free to leave feedback. This is my first posting so go ahead and offer constructive criticism, because your opinions are instructive and valued.


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